I Thought You Were My Best Friend
by Hurtful Purple
Summary: Snitch and Itey are best friends, but what happens when they meet Skittery? Can they share him like they share everything else? Slash, Snitchery, Skitey. Based on book with same title.


**A/N: **Okay, this is a crossover between Newsies, and the book I Thought You Were My Best Friend by Ann Reit. I have read the book three or four times and I really like it, so I thought it would be cool as a Newsies story. P.S. Snitch (Eric) is like Eve, Skittery (Kyle) is Quent, Itey (Isaac) is Phoebe, Specs (Sean) is Heather, and that's all I have planned out for now.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Newsies, or I thought you were my best friend. They are owned by Disney and Ann Reit respectively. I also don't own anything else you recognize.

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**Chapter One**

I got bored with the movie we were watching, and turned to face Eric. We were sitting on the couch in his room. His knees were drawn up to his chest, an arm resting on the tops of his knees. But the strangest thing about him was the thumb that he had placed in his mouth and was gently sucking on.

Suddenly, he let loose a sigh from around his thumb and shook his head. For a moment, I couldn't understand why, then I realized that something in the movie had made him sigh.

It had always amazed me that Eric could still do things like talk and sigh with that thumb still perched delicately in his mouth. I'd been friends with him for years, almost half of my life, and I never quite figured out how or why he did some of the things he did.

"Eric," I said abruptly, "why do you suck your thumb?"

At that moment, it struck me odd that I had never asked him that question. Sure, I'd thought about it, but in my imagination, whenever I'd pictured myself asking, he'd either yelled at me, telling me it was none of my business, or he'd burst into tears, and tell me some story about how he lost his birth mother in a tragic fire, and it somehow reminds him of her. Only, he's still got both of his biological parents living and breathing.

But he simply shrugged, his eyes still glued to the tube, seemingly amazed with the movie. "It's a comfort thing."

"A comfort thing? Then why don't you do it when your parents are around?"

Eric finally looked away from the tv screen and fixed his gaze on me. "They wouldn't understand. The last time they saw me with my thumb in my mouth was when I was ten, and they told me to stop on acount of it being babyish."

"Well at least your parents notice you," I said. "My dad wouldn't notice if I moved away."

"Yeah right, Isaac. Your dad notices more than you think." And with that, Eric took a potato chip out of the bag sitting next to him, and crumbled it up in his hand. I wasn't sure why, until he dumped the potato chip parcels in my hair. I shook my head, trying to get it out. I felt success as I saw bits of potato chip fly across the room.

I wished I were more like Eric. He was always goofy, not afraid of anything. He didn't care what anyone thought about him, and he was a great friend. But I mostly wished I had his family. His mother and father who never fight. His brother who has a date every night with a different girl. He's got the perfect family.

I thought about what Eric had said. "You're wrong," I announced. He's too busy fighting with my mom. Cause his little boidies are tellin 'im she's cheatin' on 'im." I say, putting on a New York accent like my dad has.

"You know, Spot's not a bad guy. Besides, he's cute," Eric said simply. Now I'd known Eric was gay, we both are, but who is this 'Spot' person?

"What are you talking about?" I asked confused. Eric's like that. He often speaks in puzzles, leaves sentences out of what he says. You see, he thinks he says them, but he doesn't. That's all part of what makes having him as a best friend so fun. It really exercises your brain. And most of the time I can keep up with him, but this time I have to ask, "Who's cute?"

"Spot Conlon, dummy. He's the one who talks about his 'little boidies'."

Aw, Newsies. That's our favorite movie. We weren't quite old enough to see it when it was in theatres (we weren't even born then), but in 1999, Disney Channel showed it, and we've been in love since. We've both got the DVD and watch it as many times as possible, which is why I was slightly confused as to why we weren't watching it today. But, no, see, Eric recently fell in love with Rent, and the guy who plays Mark in Rent is in the movie on VH1, _Dazed and Confused_, so we're watching that.

"Well," Eric started, "he'd definitely notice when your room doesn't get any cleaner." Now Eric was back to talking about how my dad doesn't notice me. I told you talking to him was like your brain doing a jigsaw puzzle.

"He'd only notice when the trash doesn't take itself out," I said jokingly.

"Or when the dishwasher stops emptying."

"Or when the hamster cage gets dirtier and dirtier. If we _had_ a hamster."

Eric and I were like that. We could finish each others sentences with ease most days. If we were on a roll, we could go on like that for hours without stopping.

Suddenly, Eric stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. "I just _know_ I'm adopted. That would definitely explain why I look nothing like my parents. And me looking slightly like Sean is just a coincidence. Because I'm in no way, shape, or form related to him. I was _so _adopted."

"Oh, please, Eric, you would look exactly like your parents if they had brunette hair," I said. And it was true. Both of his parents had blue eyes, but his mother had dirty blonde hair, and his father's hair was red. And his brother, Sean, did have brown eyes and glasses, but he had the same brunette wavy hair that Eric had.

"No, I was adopted. My real father was the Prince of Persia, and my mother was a filthy commoner he'd had an affair with. They flew here, to America, when I was a baby and gave me up for adoption. That's where my 'parent's," he used air quotes when saying the word 'parents', "come into play. They adopted me and locked up the papers."

"So you're a Prince huh? The Prince of Persia?"

"Yes."

"Whatever you say, oh holy one." I got off the bed, crouched down on my knees in front of Eric, and bowed down to him. When I was finished, I sat on the floor, crossing my legs.

"You are such a pessimist. How did we ever get to be friends? Oh yeah, you were the bossy new kid of second grade, and I was your lackey."

"I was not bossy! I was... just used to having my way," I finish lamely.

"No, you were bossy. I remember, you ordered half our class to do 24 pushups within the first week. And if they stopped you put sand down their pants."

I blush and cross my arms. "I don't ever remember you trying to stop me."

"I was afraid of you just like the rest of them! It's a good thing you grew out of that bully phase in fourth grade, or you'd have absolutely no friends. And you'd be the worst bully ever, considering your height and weight, and the fact that you don't threaten any of us anymore."

"Fine, if I admit I was a bully, will you stop badgering me about it every second you get?"

Eric considered for a moment. "Okay, I will. How does Sean do it?" Just as I was about to ask for clarification, he said, "He always has a girlfriend. He's so stupid and vile, so how does he do it?"

"He gives off the right vibes. That's what all the TV shows and magazines say you have to do. You have to let your crush know you're interested. And anyway, he isn't stupid and vile. He's smart and kinda cute, actually."

Eric's jaw drops. "You think he's _cute_? How could you? That goes against best friend code!"

"I didn't mean it like that! It's just... he's sort of good looking."

"Suuuure."

"No, really!"

"Fine, I believe you."

"Anyway, I have to go. My mom wants me home for dinner in about twenty minutes."

"Just stay a bit longer, have a coke or something."

I agreed so we went downstairs and Eric tossed me a coke. I was about to open it when he said "Don't open that just yet." So I waited for a few minutes before opening it.

Sean walked into the kitchen without a word to Eric, but he nodded to me. "Hey."

"Hi," I said meekly. I was always a bit nervous around Sean. I mean, he's my best friends brother.

He put his feet on the table, and flipped open his cell phone, dialing a number, before putting it to his ear.

Eric rolled his eyes at his brother's behavior, and turned to the stove.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner? My parents have to stay at work late, and it's just me and Mr. I-Gab-Into-My-Cell-Phone-All-Night," Eric said as he started taking out food to make for dinner. He grabbed a pot and put water in it, setting it on the stove to boil.

"I wish I could, but I gotta go soon."

Sean started having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other line, and it was then that I realized that we looked a lot alike. I mean, the three of us looked like we could have been brothers, but Sean and I looked just a little bit more alike.

"Alright, well you better finish that soon," Eric said, pointing to the coke in my hand, which I had only taken a sip out of.

Eric started adding noodles to a now boiling pot of water.

Sean hung up, and looked at me with a funny expression on his face. "You have chips in your hair, dude."

I was about to brush them out of my hair, when Eric stood up. "Here, let me do it." He ran his hand across my head a few times, and seeming satisfied with himself, sat back down in his chair.

I sat down in a chair next to Sean and started taking long swigs of my coke. If I wanted to finish it soon, I'd really have to hurry. I finally finish my coke, and stand up, just as Eric starts straining the noodles.

"I'll see you later," I say gathering my things to leave.

"I'll call you!" Eric shouts at my retreating form just as the door to the house slams shut.

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Yes, second rewrite. How did you guys like this one? 


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